


Spagetti with Spinach

by KallikPollock



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25409623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KallikPollock/pseuds/KallikPollock
Summary: Just me writing stuff downHow I felt when my grandpa died and what I did on that day.
Kudos: 1





	Spagetti with Spinach

It was Wednesday, 12:30pm. I looked at the big watch at the wall of the gym. I remember this moment because my classmate just finished the warmup each one of us needed to prepare for the class. I went to my teacher and faked cramps because I wanted to skip the last few hours of school and take the bus home. I cannot remember much after that until I got home. I talked with my best friend when I got a call from my dad.

"Grandpa is in the hospital. He had a heart attack. Where are you?"

I remember telling him that I was home. I waited for an hour, where I heard nothing, when I decided to go and drive per bike to the city's hospital. I was on the first floor, at the top of the stairs, in my house when my mum came into the house. She looked up and me and said "He died."

I remember falling to my knees and starting to cry. Forget the cute crying from any show or movie. I bawled, I remember getting not enough air, being hot and warm at the same time. My mum hugged me tight and tried to calm me down. 

After that, we drove to his house, where his fiance and her kids and grandkids where sitting. We were just sitting together and talking, crying, trying to make it better. 

Andreas was the father of my father. His wife Klara died 2000, exactly 1 Year and 49 days before my birth due to Ovarian cancer. His only son moved 10 min footwalk away. I, his middle granddaughter, was almost living with him in primary and middle school. I used to sleep over at his house every weekend. He would cook meals for me, my favourite being spagetti with spinach. He had a little Jack Russel Terrier, called Milow, which I loved to play with. He showed me old books, he showed me toads that got stuck in his cellar. That day, he died at 12:30pm due to a non predictable heart attack. 

Autumn 2018, he died on a heart attack. He went outside with his fiance after dinner to nap in the sun, snored once loudly and then was gone. 

Every day until this year, I asked myself what would have I done when I was there. What would have happened if I had visited him more in that time. Every day, I wanted him back. I wanted him to see how I moved out to live on my own, how I got my first job immediatly after school. 

When we cleaned out his house, I tried to safe as much as possible, just so that I didn't loose him. I safed stuff that I knew, like a little red cat that was constantly on his kitchen table or a jacked from his favourite sports team. I also saved stuff that I didn't knew, like old Records or a little bird out of metal who's tail is a Bottle opener. 

I visited his grave as often as possible, talked with his gravestone about everyday stuff and I acompanied my dad when his funeral was being prepared and we saw him in the Coffin. He didn't looked like himself, so we didn't allow my sisters to see him.

When I think of him, I think about the days before eastern when we collected moss for our nests. I think about the bike tours we did together, the old small car he used to drive with the weird violet pelt seat covers. I think about old country songs and how we would sing them together, I think about the chocolate mint dragees he had in this smal living room.

It is hard to let people go. I still haven't. The pain just got bearable. Please look after your elders, because you never know when they will leave.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically just me remembering my grandpa. Not beta'd, not read over a second time.


End file.
